


The Necklace

by Elane_in_the_Shadows



Category: Red Queen - Victoria Aveyard
Genre: Angst, F/M, Grief, Parent-Child Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-07-12 21:06:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16003301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elane_in_the_Shadows/pseuds/Elane_in_the_Shadows
Summary: Exploring the relationship of Farley and the colonel in a few scenes.





	1. I - Glass Sword

**“You look terrible.”**

As usual, every grain of concern from the colonel was wrapped in a dozen layers of scorn and scolding. As usual, Farley let them roll off her, despite how chafing his words were. They were hardly able to hurt as well, not today. Her wounds went much deeper and she wasn’t surprised that showed.

She followed him into his Tuck office, her posture straight, her expression fierce. She watched him take a seat behind his desk, but remained standing herself. It was easier to deal with her tense body that way, and it wasn’t an option to give in and cave on a seat in his presence.

“If you’re here for a debriefing, I’ve already done most of it with Barrow during the last hours.” Funny. As if he forgot his side remark at her to talk when they’d returned from Corros, followed by several curious glances demanding answers. “I wonder where you’ve been in the meantime?” he asked, staring up to her.

That wasn’t an odd question, she _had_ taken the whole day to react and come to him. But now she stared him down on her own, as hard as she was able to, since she’d needed every minute of procrastinating this meeting, during which she had:

Cried  
Held Shade’s dead hand.  
Watched over his body.  
Met his mourning family and spoke with them in a superficial manner.  
Finally let go of Shade after engraving his sight into her mind.  
Flied with Cal to the Notch to gather the rest of their Newblood recruits.  
Made a decision.  
Slept fitfully and cried into her pillow.  
Stopped the indulgence and went to Sara Skonos to ask –

“You’re really unwell,” the colonel stated needlessly. “You’ve lost weight.”

She almost cackled. He had truly no idea. Well, he didn’t need to. _Eleven weeks_ , Sara Skonos had told her. Not long until the weight she’d lost at the Notch was regained and her condition would show, hopefully with the dreadful nausea vanishing fast.

“I’m perfectly healthy,” she said, “unlike others.” While he inclined his head in acknowledgement, she noticed how her hand had slipped into her sweater pocket, to rest on her abdomen. _Not again_. But damn, she couldn’t not be enticed by the tiny, resilient being in her womb, not even consciously. She pulled her hand out swiftly, but she’d found something else in the pocket, too.

Farley cleared her throat, knowing she’d still sound sore. “I maintained contact to Command, to update them on our progresses – “

“– and to receive resources from them,” he said.

“So you know already, I see.” She tilted her head, wetting her lips. She wasn’t ready to meet him, couldn’t stand the glaring duels, the word battles. Not yet. She had to finish this quickly.

“Indeed I’ve heard, Captain Farley.” She blinked at the use of the rank she’d lost, and the colonel produced a letter he held out to her. “Congratulations.”

“What?” How could he know? Not even Sara had thought to congratulate –

“ ‘Diana Farley, designation Lamb, is reinstated as captain of the Scarlet Guard, in regards to her efforts at the successful raid of Corros Prison’,” he quoted.

She snatched the letter and read for herself. It was true, her rank was restored, which should be a relief, if only she could bring herself to care. She glimpsed the colonel’s wary gaze examining her still. What, did he expect her to cheer, despite all that had happened?

She lowered the letter and began to speak, after clearing her throat again. “I have something for you, too,” she said in a low voice. Her hand slipped into her pocket, her fingers gliding over the treasured object. She pulled it out slowly, making an awful show of it. The colonel appeared merely impatient – until he identified the golden necklace wrapped around her fingers.

“You didn’t think I’ve lost it, did you?” she taunted. His eye followed her hand’s movements like a puppet on a string. He wanted it back. Her mother’s necklace with the key on it which she’d stolen from him when they’d fled Tuck weeks ago. And for once, he was silent, as if entranced by the sight.

She let it drop on his desk, the _clunk_ of the key and the _swish_ of the chain links sounding through the quiet room.

He needed a second to register and to reach out to take it.

“I have a request for keeping it safe,” she announced. “And for returning it.”

His head jerked up. As if she’d intended to keep it. Wearing Madeline’s necklace was enough of a reminder, and most of the time, she hadn’t known what to do with this one, the second necklace that had belonged to Clara Farley, her mother.

Better it was with him, so she could at least pretend he still cared about their family. “Come to Shade Barrow’s funeral,” she said. It dumbfounded him. “He deserves you pay him respect,” she insisted. “Like everyone else we’ve lost last night, but couldn’t bring back with us.” He nodded, yet she went on, “Shade’s been a great asset to the Guard, he’s saved many lives, proving many times over how vital he, and all Newbloods are to our cause, and how loyal. He shouldn’t be forgotten. He was a hero.”

_And the father of my child._ But she didn’t say that. The words danced on her tongue, tempting her to voice them like the rest of her outburst. But she held them back, contending herself with the colonel’s distant, professional expression. He didn’t understand after all, didn’t offer condolences. He would treat both her and Shade like honoured soldiers, and nothing else. Maybe that was better.

She wasn’t ready for the shouting match that would ensue were she honest and open, and none of them deserved that.

She left the office without sparing him another glance. She had to ready herself for a funeral, to say goodbye once more. 


	2. II - King's Cage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At Tuck during King's Cage, after Mare was captured.

**He’d only** stopped to take a breath in the rush of evacuation after Mare Barrow’s capture when Diana sidled along the corridor and caught his gaze. He opened his mouth but didn’t know what to say. His daughter looked severe, as usual, but also frail, as heart-broken as at their last meeting.

“Glad you weren’t on your way to the Choke yet, Colonel?” she jeered at him in passing, before he could make up his mind.

“And you must be relieved to have stayed behind, too, _Captain_?” he called after her.

She stopped and turned to him. “Are you calling me a coward, sir?” she jeered, coming closer. “Preferring you had ordered me out of your sight, sir? Or even more to see me failing and getting captured again, _sir_?”

“Diana – “

“I am sorry for my comrades and I’ll do my best to support and to save them, but I’m not sorry to have kept my child out of dan – ” she blinked, but the words were already said. _Her child_. Even her palm had went up, close to touching her abdomen. Almost. She let it drop once she realized, biting her lip and blushing, but balling her fists.

His own shock reverberated in the back of his mind, but he understood how her recent behaviour made sense now, and yet it was hard to believe. Diana … and the deceased Newblood Barrow boy? He remembered the way she’d talked about him, praising him in death. That wasn’t only out of respect, apparently.

“Take it easy then,” he said, aghast. She frowned, and his disbelief grew only stronger. _What has she gotten herself into with this?_ He shook his head. “Diana. I expected better. I thought you were too smart to make yet another bad decision, that you would be an asset for the Guard.”

For a second, she froze, taken aback. Hurt flashed over her face, joined by red spots, then icy, blazing anger replaced it.

She broke out of it in an instant. She rushed at him, fast and aggressive. He outstretched his arm in defense, but she was too quick, smacked it away. Her left hand took hold of his right, and taking full advantage of his blind left side, she evaded his other hand trying to grab her, so she was about to slap him on the cheek –

She stopped. Her hand was millimetres away from his throat and with her cold and searing glare, it was a threat as intense as if she was holding a weapon. Without looking down, she bent back the fingers of his right hand and squeezed, all of it becoming a warning at him, a demand not to pamper her, not to underestimate how dangerous she continued to be, when she wanted to be.

Her blue eyes were unforgiving, full of despise for him. He remembered the time when they’d looked at the world, even at him, in a completely different way. Now he doubted he would ever see her like that again. She had left behind the girl she had been, back at their home, long ago.

The captain let go, knowing she’d bested him. But her demeanour remained antagonistic and alert, only thinly veiled by forced calm.

“Maybe,” she began, “that isn’t a bad decision at all. Maybe it’s exactly what I want.” She stepped back. “A family. And more than _… this_ ,” she almost spat, and it was a blow harder than any slap would’ve been, it was the confirmation that in her eyes, he’d done something unforgivable. But then, she’d never forgiven him for the deaths of Clara and Madeline in the first place.

The corners of her mouth twitched without any amusement. “I’m sorry I lost my temper, sir,” she said. “It won’t happen again. We’re professionals working together for the Scarlet Guard, aren’t we?”

And with that, she’d made perfectly clear they’d never again be more than that, more than comrades. He nodded. He’d respect her that much. “Captain,” he grunted, “see to the evacuation.”

She didn’t salute; she merely turned on her heel and left, to rouse the evacuees, including the Barrows, the family she must’ve chosen in his stead. Already there was something lighter in her step, once the father she’d rejected was out of her sight.


	3. III - War Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This takes place during War Storm, after Mare and Farley return to the Piedmont base and before they travel to Montfort.

**The knock showed** an uncannily good timing, beginning exactly between finishing one bag and before Farley started the next. She bid the visitor into her room, then she realized who they probably were, and cussed under her breath. She rushed over, picked up Clara, and took a seat at the table, just as the colonel crossed the threshold, saluting. Farley had to swallow her grin, even more so with a wriggling Clara on her lap. She waived the urge to kiss the baby’s brow once more, and instead awaited her father as proudly as a Silver queen.

“I appreciate your timing, colonel,” she said. “We need to brief before my next relocation.” His face moved marginally, but that satisfied her. He was, after all, no one to display strong reactions, so she had to content herself with the small signs of displeasure. She asked him to sit and he did, while she shoved pen and paper in his direction. She couldn’t write with Clara on her lap, so he would have to do her the favour.

“The Monfortans invited the Barrows, me and several Silvers,” she announced. “There are matters to discuss where my presence is vital, thus you’ll have command of the base for a little longer.”

He nodded and they began to talk, to prepare the base and their troops for the next steps. The colonel offered information without prodding and his cooperation, with her as his superior, still felt astoundingly good, after she’d feared he would never comply.

It was a play with reversed roles that she enjoyed way too much. _Focus on the cause, General, not your ego_ , she told herself. But he’d been the one to teach her, and she’s been an apt student. She issued orders that he, as her second in command, would have to implement in her absence, and informed him about the plans with Montfort, so he could feel appreciated.

“This stay is very temporary, since Montfort is waiting and those Silvers ... we had to bring them, but I would’ve preferred to have them fly the direct route.”

He refrained from his usual snarl against Silvers, to her surprise. She cleared her throat and shifted Clara to get up. “That’s all, Colonel,” she said, about to turn back to her packing.

“You’ll take the girl too?” he wondered in her back.

Slowly, she turned around again, glaring, and in a low voice, she said, “Mare’s bartered to bring her family. Clara’s part of her family.”

What a lie that was, as if she cared about that argument _. Am I part of the Barrows?_ Montfort was safe, she had to bring Clara there either way. Clara stayed with her or with Ruth, not some stranger. She didn’t want her daughter away from her, the last days had been hard enough. She hadn’t ever been separated from Clara for more than a few hours before, not for a year if she counted the pregnancy. Now Farley didn’t intend to let go of her before duty and war forced her once more. She loved to see Clara smiling at her too much.

But no need to get sentimental in front of the colonel. Let him think she kept her so prominently in his sight to annoy him.

Farley broke the eye contact after she’d seen him swallow; she wanted him out. Putting Clara on display was one thing, tending to her in his presence another. She gestured to the door. “You have your orders –

He remained sitting. “Diana, wait – “

_“Don’t – “_

“Just a moment, please.”

_Please_ was the only reason to allow him to stay. She stared at him while he searched for words. But he didn’t utter a sentence, and instead revealed a pouch he laid on the table and shoved in her direction.

“For your girl,” he said, and it irked her he’d said her unused name, but not Clara’s. Unnerved, she freed a hand and opened the pouch to peek inside.

There was a golden chain, a necklace like the one she wore. Her mother’s necklace.

She gulped, closing the pouch. “She’s too small for that,” she groaned. She tried to return it to him, but only so his hand could cover hers. She shivered.

His eye fixed her. “Thank you giving it back to me last year,” he said. “But it was your mother’s. Clara should have it.”

He couldn’t do this. Not now. Not after all those years he didn’t allow her to grief, or just to miss her mother and sister while they had to give all their energy to the Scarlet Guard.

How dared he making her cry?

She pulled her hand away from her father’s, shoving the pouch aside with the motion, and hugged Clara tighter.

“She’s too small for that …!” she repeated with a hiss. Clara moved and looked around curiously, but Farley’s hold was firm now. “Give it to her yourself when she’s older!”

She stormed out of the room, embarrassed she was the one to leave her own office and lean against its walls. Hopefully, the colonel could take a hint.

What did it mean, him thanking her, trying to give Clara that necklace? Did he think they wouldn’t meet again? Well, now he would’ve to make that happen.

She didn’t look up as he entered the corridor and went in the opposite direction. Her focus remained on Clara and she took a deep breath, breathing in the baby’s sweet smell. Her little girl, the only family she had left.

_He_ had stopped treating her like his daughter long ago, so she didn’t treat him like her father either. He couldn’t start with that suddenly, not after he as good as called her stupid for having Clara.

Farley waited until the shivering waned, until the sobs were swallowed, and Clara’s smile made her smile, too. For once, the girl was wide awake and lively, fortunately at day and not at night, nor during the flight to come if she was lucky. Her tiny fingers reached for her mother, they always did, and Farley craved to give Clara all she desired. She had to make her happy, even as her only parent. Then Clara found the necklace under her mother’s clothing and her eyes gleamed as brightly as the metal. Farley sighed.

She had hesitated to wear it for so long, didn’t want to put it on like her sister was forgotten, had never existed. It wasn’t hers. She only decided to wear the necklace because the threat of the chain breaking and having it stolen was smaller when it was around her neck than when carrying it in a bag that might get lost any time, given their way of life. Now she knew better. The necklace wasn’t her sister, but Madeline had loved it so much that Farley had to cherish for her sake instead of hiding it.

She’d only needed time to look at it without pain.

* * *

**She returned to** her room, gave Clara a kiss and placed her in her cot. “You should have that necklace,” she whispered. “One day.” She knew she was being hypocritical. She missed Shade all the time, wished Clara could meet her father, while she shunned her own. It was like a scar, a wound that couldn’t ever fully heal. _I preferred to be alone_ , she thought _. I rather lived in solitude than with the pain he reminded me of_. But she was alone no more, had given that up with meeting Shade, Mare, their family, Clara.

“Maybe things will change again, dove,” she whispered to her daughter who became sleepy after all. “But sadly, this war is in the way, and I have to settle that first.” Travelling to Montfort was the first, important step to accomplish that. She smirked, despite the fear that always crawled under her skin when she thought of the battles t come since Clara had entered her life.

“I’ll change the world for you, dove. And once that’s done, we might think about your grandfather again.” She could give Clara a chance to know her grandfather, even if she didn’t know how to forgive him.


	4. IV - Broken Throne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taking place 2,5 years after War Storm

**Late March had** arrived when it was finally warm enough to snow. How odd to say it like that. Although Farley had grown up in a cold climate herself, the harsh winters in Montfort came as a surprise to her, its fresh winds feeling like slaps in the face.

Clara cared significantly less about it; she’d never known any other but Montfortan weather. She’d never again travelled as much as in the months before she was born, nor had she ever visited her birthplace, Piedmont, again, and was unlikely to do so in the future. Instead her focus was on what was around her and this morning, she couldn’t wait to play in the snow – the first she consciously experienced at almost three.

Every change of weather made her so curious, made her ask endless questions. Farley wasn’t good at answering them, to her despair. She had some basic knowledge from growing up on a farm, but Clara wasn’t satisfied with vague replies. Farley had begun to delve into Ascendant’s libraries to gain new insights while Carmadon Davidson became the one to react to Clara’s inquiries happily.

_I’ll have to find a good school for her,_ Farley thought once more.

For now, Clara was distracted by the snow itself, jumping around and throwing flakes, laughing at them. The girl hadn’t been able to staunch her excitement the night before, when it had started to snow, or in the morning when her mother had insisted to wait until daylight had come and they were appropriately dressed.

Farley watched her attentively. Clara’s cheeks began to redden and she wondered how long until her clothes were thoroughly wet, if Clara continued those antics.

“Mama!” Clara called now, and Farley wondered whether she wanted company in her play, then she rushed her steps as she noticed the slight panic on Clara’s face – one she tried to hide behind a forced smile.

Farley got down on her knees in of Clara. “Well?” she teased, raising her eyebrows.

Clara blinked.

“Sunk in?” Farley stroked Clara’s capped head. Clara nodded with a pout.

“Come here,” Farley said as she lifted her up. Carefully, Clara sat down in front of her, and laid her small hands dressed in woollen gloves on her mother’s knees. She looked up. “Is there snow at the house too, Mama?” Clara asked.

“Probably. It’s not far away.”

“And the animals?” Farley raised her eyebrows. “Are they buried beneath the snow?”

“What? Of course not, Dove. They’re in stables.”

“Does our house have a stable?” Clara asked. “Does it have animals? Will we have cows?”

Clara’s excitement about their new home relieved Farley. But her expectations … “Dove, I told you – “

“Are there seals in the village? You never told me where – “

“Your mother saw seals in the Lakelands, as a child.”

Farley spun her head. The colonel stood behind them, in his dark military coat. He tilted his head. “Didn’t you, General?”

Farley chewed her lip as she pondered, confused by his presence, his interruption. _That time_ , she remembered _, I didn’t see a living seal. We_ ate _one_. “Yes,” she said aloud and caressed Clara’s cheek. The girl didn’t need to know that detail. “They were funny, Dove.” She smiled, and Clara’s eyes widened, the harbinger of more questions to come. Farley sighed. “I wonder why you asked about seals. Is something with Molly?” That was what she called her beloved plush toy seal, after Mare’s middle name.

“Ah ...” Clara hesitated. “She’s … over there …” She pointed somewhere into the whiteness.

Farley cupped her face with her hands and kissed her – cold – nose. “Why don’t you go look for her?” she proposed. Quickly, Clara rose and stumbled forward into the white mass. Farley shifted her position to look at her father.

She didn’t speak until he sat down opposite her, to her surprise. _So indignant_. She spared him a comment about old bones out in the cold and waited.

“I’ve heard you bought a house in Montfort,” he said eventually.

“In a village close by, with good access to the capital,” she confirmed after another moment. “A small house, since there’re only the two of us.”

“So you’ll settle here.”

She closed her eyes and sighed. “Clara knows Montfort best, and it’s where the rest of her family lives.”

He cleared his throat. “When is that?”

Her eyes searched for Clara in the snow. “I wanted to wait till spring – real spring – and then renovate first. But I’ll have to do that anyway, and until then, we’ll be guests of friends again. As I was reminded how long these winters are.” She shrugged, then looked at him. “It’s in a week,” she stated.

He nodded and rose. His gaze went in the same direction as hers, toward Clara. “I’ll return to the Lakelands.”

That stunned her. “Oh.”

His hands sank into his coat pockets. “The reports all talk of problems, uprisings and arrests. Our work isn’t done there, Diana. The Lakelands didn’t have the same luck as Norta or Montfort.” She bit her lip. “Don’t you care about where we started?” he asked, thankfully, without using her name again.

“I give my all,” she said, and stood up as well.

“I didn’t mean it like that – “

“No?” She glared at him. But she knew he still wanted an answer. Didn’t he listen to her, couldn’t he guess? Her gaze returned to Clara.

“Don’t you miss them?” he asked eventually, strangely quiet.

_I miss him_ , she was tempted to bark back. Even after all this time. But it would still be a lie by omission, and the way he looked at her, with a raw emotion for the first time in years, she couldn’t. It was the admittance she’d waited for, the acknowledgement that her father missed and mourned Madeline and her mother, too.

“I do,” she whispered, and then louder, “I know very well how the Lakelands are at the moment. It’s not a place for her to grow up.”

He said nothing.

“I … I thought home is overrated. I didn’t care about having a certain place since … well. Home is the people you love. Who you miss. I believed as long as we have each other …” she shook her head and laughed mirthlessly. “So, in the last months, I brought Clara along on my travels. Thought she’s old enough, and I believed she liked it. I did. But one morning, after we’d arrived in a new base the night before, she came at me, asking for that toy, this shirt, and I had to tell her I left them behind. You see, I’ve travelled lightly, had only the basics packed for her, too, since she’s growing so fast. And the bases we stayed at had most things.” He nodded. “But then, Clara started to cry, and said she had nothing, and couldn’t be comforted. Wouldn’t be.” It had felt like a stab, like failure. Clara had gone to the person looking after the children at the base and had hardly spoken to her mother for the rest of the day.

“She was only happier once I gave her the plush seal that day. I’d gotten it for her as fast as possible, and she loves it. Like the photo of her father I gave her to take care of.” She sniffed to hide the tears in her eyes. The colonel only looked at her, unusually calm. She wondered why, suddenly, she wanted to talk to him. Maybe it was a bad conscience.

“Well, I figured she needs more than that. She’s too small for this, no matter how brave she is; she needs a real home.” The corners of her mouth twitched. “She can’t wait until we move in.”

He didn’t reply.

“Dove!” she called, and caught her daughter’s attention. “Do you have her now?”

“Even I can see it,” the colonel said, squinting his eyes.

“She just wants to play a little longer,” she said, shaking her head.

He coughed. “Why do you call her ‘Dove’?”

She blinked and turned her head to him. “She …  loves the sky. And even before …” Her hands wandered into her coat pockets as she searched for words. “She was born during a storm, and I’ve always wondered if that meant something.” She felt her cheeks blushing, it sounded so silly. But the Lightning Girl’s niece, born during a storm? Farley couldn’t have helped laughing when she’d gone into labour and the next thing she noticed were the thunder and lightning outside.

Now she stepped ahead to join Clara.

“I wanted to wait until your birthdays,” the colonel said behind her. “As you’ve told me to,” he added. “To give it to her once Clara’s old enough.”

Finally, she glanced over her shoulder. She swallowed.

He produced a pouch. “It’s time, Diana, now that we’re separating ways.”

She inclined her chin ever so slightly before she went to pick up Clara.

* * *

**She held Clara** up in her arms as Clara held her plush seal. “Grandfather has something for you,” she whispered into the girl’s ear, waking Clara’s curiosity.

The colonel nodded solemnly and, with hesitation, patted Clara’s head, adding to the handful of times he’d ever touched his grandchild. The golden necklace shimmered in his other hand, filigree around his calloused fingers. “It belonged to your grandmother once,” he said. “Did your mother tell you about her? You share her name.”

Clara nodded, fascinated by the jewellery, or possibly by her grandfather’s rare closeness. She outstretched her arms, but it was he who carefully fixed it around her neck, despite her thick coat, scarf and hat. “Take good care of it,” he asked, and then he cupped her small face, for a moment, the closest he’d ever come to a hug.

“I will,” Clara promised enthusiastically, not nearly as weighed down by the necklace’s sad memories as he or her mother. “Thank you, Grandfather,” Clara added.

That made him smile, to Farley’s shock. She almost read, _she has better manners than you_ , in his expression.

“Take care of yourself,” Farley said to him. She bit her lip. _This is really a goodbye_. She shifted her hold on Clara and offered her hand. He shook it.

“Farewell, General, Clara,” said he, and like that, they turned into different directions, leaving the other behind.

Farley realized Clara would have more questions to ask now, about her mother’s family. It was a good thing. Loss and grief and war had made Farley ignore her family. Clara made her remember.

 


End file.
